


As Yet Unseen

by SenkoWakimarin



Category: The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Multi, OT3, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-13
Updated: 2018-11-13
Packaged: 2019-08-23 02:30:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16610177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SenkoWakimarin/pseuds/SenkoWakimarin
Summary: She knew the feeling, even when it was early.





	As Yet Unseen

**Author's Note:**

> For spacepiratericky on Tumblr, who asked: Liebercastle OT3 : Frank's reaction when Sarah gets pregnant again.
> 
> Boom, have some emotions.

They weren’t really trying for anything. It was more a sort of… well, to say they didn’t care was inaccurate, and to say it was convenient was equally so -- more, it was a sort of slippery slope of lax attitudes, but if you thought any of them were ever going to say _that_ about having a kid, well, you were out of your mind.

So they ran out of condoms. It was no one’s fault (it was very clearly David’s fault, because he was the one who was supposed to do the shopping) and honestly, since hitting forty, Sarah was pretty sure her days of fertility were safely behind her. Not that it was an excuse, but, well. They all knew they were healthy, and none of them slept around, so she wasn’t worried about catching anything. And there was a certain romance to…

Okay so maybe she’d been thinking about having a night without condoms anyway. It was her goddamn choice. And maybe she’d encouraged them both to finish inside on several nights, but that was also a perfectly acceptable preference. She was forty-two years old! Babies were the last thing on her mind, honestly.

But she knew the feeling, even when it was early. She knew exactly what she’d find, but she bought the goddamn test kit anyway. An expensive one, even; four-point-five stars rated on the google search she ran to see which stupid stick she should pee on for most accurate results.

She brings the test to David while he’s sitting in their bed and tapping away at some kind of project. He doesn’t look up when she comes to stand beside him, but he smiles in the way that says ‘I’m not ignoring you, but whatever this string of code I’m typing up right now does, I probably shouldn’t look away from it’. So really, it’s probably not the best time for this, but that’s okay. It’s never going to be.

“David,” she says, and holds up the test, response side toward him. He stares, first at it and then at her. There’s a sort of journey his face goes on that has nothing to do with the way data is suddenly scrolling down his screen; confusion to recognition to concern to this weird joy-apprehension blend that’s honestly so fitting she has to laugh.

He looks a little younger when he’s this unguarded; it reminds her of how he was before that video had found its way to him. When he’d had faith in things, when he trusted that most people in positions of power would use it to do the right thing. It hits her suddenly in a very real way that they’re both _forty-two years old_ and are about to have a baby.

When he opens his mouth to say something, she says, “My period is like, ten days late. My head has been hurting and the smell of frying sausage this morn just about made me puke.”

“Okay, okay. You’re. This is a thing we’re… _are_ we?”

She shifts her weight, thinking. It could be David’s. It might be Frank’s. Either way, she thinks, this isn’t exactly something she’d been looking for, but it’s something she _wants_ now that she has it.

“Yeah,” she says, quiet but firm. She’s a little surprised that the look that crosses his face seems to largely be relief. He’s _pleased_ about this. Frankly, she’s too tired to feel anything but a determination to handle this correctly and then maybe score a nap. “We need to talk to Frank.”

His grin is infectious. It’s a variation of the dopey look he gets whenever he’s watching Frank and thinks no one is paying attention to him. She wonders if he was always this obvious or if he’s just lost a lot of the ability to be subtle from living alone for a year, and then quickly decides to change her line of thought.

“He is…” David checks his watch, makes a face, then shrugs, “Either on his way home or home and in the shower. So like, should I tell him on the phone or…?”

The urge to shake this man is sometimes overwhelming. “David, how would you have reacted if I called you to let you know I was pregnant with Leo?”

“... Happy?” He says slowly, so very obviously missing the point that she can only groan.

“You call someone with this kind of news when you either don’t care about their reaction or they’re not directly involved,” she supplies and then smiles and shakes her head when his eyes widen and he utters a soft, drawn out ‘oh’. She sits heavily on the edge of the bed, the pregnancy test in her hand. After a moment, his hand is on her upper back, rubbing away tension she hadn’t realized she was carrying.

David sets aside his laptop, whatever he’d been working on now decidedly unimportant. “Okay, so, I don’t want to tell him this is an emergency because. Uh.”

She smiles again and leans into the massage he’s starting to put a little effort into. “Just tell him to come over for dinner. And a movie.”

Dinner and a movie had somehow become code-word for wanting Frank to spend the night, and all that implied. Which, honestly, Sarah wouldn’t say no to.

“I mean, obviously that’s great bait and all, babe, but he has to be at work at like six AM.”

“Tell him it’s an _important_ movie, David.”

She just about falls off the bed when David, a few minutes later, says exactly that over the phone. She can just about see Frank’s eyes squinting at nothing, the face he makes when he’s not sure if they’re making fun of him or not. “You’ll like it, I think,” David says smoothly, and Sarah worries for the first time that he might not.

He seemed to love Leo and Zach, but loving a couple of kids who were already running around in the world, walking and talking and going to school, that was different from finding out that you were about to become a dad to a whole new human being. She didn’t know how she’d handle it if Frank didn’t want any part of this kid. It seems unfair to think that he might try to pull away over this, to ascribe such a juvenile reaction to a man who’s been nothing but respectful and kind through their relationship, but there were moments when Frank could be so _flighty_.

Certainly he has to be told. And it goes unsaid between them that Frank needs to hear about it before anyone else, even the kids. But Sarah can’t wait for after dinner, for Leo and Zach to head to bed, for all the usual steps that lead to genuine adult alone time. So when Frank arrives, she meets him at the door and she hugs him, which he allows despite the door still being open, and asks him to come with her upstairs.

It’s about then that he starts to look worried. Which is fair, honestly, and she kind of feels bad about, but he at least follows her. David, waiting inside the room, pulls the door shut after them, in case Leo or Zach get back from their after school activities before they finish talking.

Shut in with both of them while the sun is still up, Frank really does look worried. He looks between the two of them like they’re capable of hurting him, and maybe they are. Maybe they’re about to. Sarah feels like she’s never been this worried about sharing her personal business with anyone. This is nothing like telling David the first time she’d gotten pregnant. This isn’t even the kind of nervousness she’d felt when she’d first met David, when they’d ended up binging toast alone after a party, waiting each for the other to make a move.

David, of course, handles it exceptionally well. He moves easily with Frank and sits down on the end of the bed, subtly coaxing Frank to do the same. Frank remains quiet, but his look focuses on Sarah because she’s still standing by the door, and he looks so braced, so prepared for something horrible, this man who has been kicked at every turn, and she wants very badly for this not to be another reminder of pain for him.

Taking his hand, she lets him fold his fingers over hers. He keeps that intense focus on her, but he seems to lose the heaviest parts of his fear, comforted by a simple touch that whatever she’s about to say isn’t going to result in the end of the world.

God, she hopes not.

“I’m pregnant.”

His reaction is utterly unlike David’s.

Or, rather, it’s much like David’s, but it skips several steps. There is no journey on his face, there is simply a transformation -- concern to joy. He grins and it’s like clouds parting, it’s like snow melting away in the sun. So open and honest she has to grin back.

He’s squeezing her hand, just on the edge of too tight, and David leans over to hug him, and that’s when his brows draw together. His grin relaxes into something hesitant. “This is something _you_ want?” he asks, and there’s a subtle yet intense emphasis to this, a willful holding of his own hand -- as if he can pull back the blinding display of elation he’s already shown. As if he thinks his delight might somehow be translated into force of something she doesn’t want, as if he might have misread her approach to sharing this information and is ready now to hear that she doesn’t plan on keeping the baby.

Really, he sees a kick coming around every possible corner, doesn’t he?

“I’m going to have to see my doctor soon. And I’m probably going to go on some supplements, watch for certain conditions, avoid the usual things. But yeah, Frank. I _want_ this.” She squeezes back on his hand and he lets himself relax a little. She leans down and kisses him, and he hums softly when she pulls away, getting that look that she’s come to learn means he’s thinking about how to tackle some project. He’s planning, and she gets the impression that he’s the sort to make her feel almost frustratingly taken care of during pregnancy.

David is a doting husband as it is. The kind who’ll go out without complaint in a thunderstorm at 1 AM to get her the dill chips she absolutely needs. Who holds her hair when she’s heaving with morning sickness, who tells her dumb jokes to make her smile when everything just hurts and she’s exhausted from brewing a whole new human being.

She has the distinct feeling that Frank is, in spirit, the same kind of man. He’ll show her nothing but love throughout this, and make her life as easy as he can. She’s also certain that his methods will be more intense -- because he’s the kind to be looking for threats to her, to their family, rather than the kind to be anticipating her needs.

They take the kids out for dinner, somewhere nice but not stifling -- somewhere where no one gives them an odd look when Leo exclaims in joy at the announcement. Zach’s approval seems to hinge entirely on whether he’ll be having a brother or a sister, and even Frank can’t get him to clarify on which option is the favorable one to him.

It’s going to be an interesting nine months -- and an interesting life in general, after that. Sarah can see the signs of something like doubt already blooming in Frank, and when she makes eye contact, she can see that David has noticed it as well. And she understands, in a way. David probably understands better.

Frank has lost so many good things, and again and again been left to hold nothing but pain. He’s taken to their relationship like a freezing man approaching a bonfire; like he needs it, but fears, all the same, being burned.

He has a strange sense of duty and a rigid code of ethics, surprising for a man who will kill anyone who threatens those he allows to be close to him. He won’t leave even if he wants to, she realizes; he will see this through because he feels it’s the right thing to do.

Her job now is to take care of the baby, but it’s also to bring him around to the understanding that they aren’t looking for culpability from him. They never have before and they won’t start now. It’s to guide him back into that sense that he is wanted just for the joy of having him near, that they require nothing for him -- expect nothing, feel owed nothing. To take away the sense of obligation.

Pregnancy, Sarah has learned twice now, isn’t a strictly enjoyable enterprise, but there’s a certain kind of sweetness to it too. To have the result of love growing inside of her. She wants to share that with Frank just as much as she wants to share it with David.

She wants to see those heavy hands holding a baby, gentle in that strange way she knows he can manage without a thought. And she wants him to be happy, when they get to that point. She wants that most of all.

The idea of Frank Castle, happy without reservation, without the lingering fear of how this momentary joy can be twisted to pain. It’s a tall order, but it’s something worth working toward.


End file.
